reread the skk bible i was screaming your name through the radio and thinking about how love really is in everything—in teabags and oceans and cracked mobile phones and music. in waffles and ice cream and stolen vans and a stage. in a cluttered dorm room that just seems too personal to bear and in words uttered between souls and a quiet diner and its 5am crowd. in proximity and in distance. and how all-consuming it is. also thinking about how some works just seem to give you the words to dream up worlds of your own, i think the highest honour that can be bestowed upon anybody’s own work is that it inspires others to create.















